


Exile

by KeepGoing



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon Rewrite, EMT Ian Gallagher, Gallavich end game, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I am not a big fan of Trevor but I try to make him likable in this fic, I promise this fic will make it right, M/M, Mickey and Ian sort through their shit, Mickey doesn't escape, Mickey gets his life together, Mickey gets out of prison, Mickey is trying to move on, Mickey works at the center, Season 7 rewrite, Slow Burn, Trevor isnt so bad in this fic, but it takes a while to get there, doing what the writers should have done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: When Mickey gets released from Prison early, the last thing he expects is for his PO to get him a job at a center for LGBT youth. He also doesn't expect to like it, and have his boss end up being Ian's new boyfriend. But knowing he needs to move on with his life, he lets Ian go and continues to get his life back together. Ian, keeping his past with Mickey a secret and trying to keep his feelings in check, starts a snowball chain of events that means someone is going to end up hurt.He just doesn't expect it to be everyone.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Trevor
Comments: 48
Kudos: 331





	1. I think I've seen this film before

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be in 2 parts. 
> 
> This is the first part.
> 
> I hope you give this fic a chance. I wanted to write something that gives Mickey a chance to move on and get his shit together without Ian. Ian is always there, in the back of his mind, but he's giving Ian what he wanted. Mickey actually has support in this fic from his brother, and even though I wasn't a big fan of Trevor in the show, I did my best to make him likable and better than the writers did. 
> 
> Ian and Mickey are end game in this fic. Its just a long road back. 
> 
> Each part alternates between Mickey and Ian's POV.
> 
> As always comments are LOVE.

  
  
  
**_And it took you five whole minutes  
To pack us up and leave me with it  
Holdin' all this love out here in the hall_**  
  
No one is there to pick him up when he’s released into the early morning fall air. The winter coat he had on when he was arrested feels like a weighted blanket on his more defined frame, but thank God he has cigarettes because he isn’t sure he’d survive this moment with out them. 

The gate slams shut with an annoying beep and he hates himself for the way he jumps at the sound. Freedom should feel good. He should feel relieved. But honestly, he feels nothing. 

He knows he’s heading out back into the world with nothing to his name. Money, family, friends, love. He had nothing when he went in and he’s got nothing now. 

He doesn’t want to but he thinks of Ian in that moment as his old boots kick up dirt on the way to the bus stop. He wishes he had the courage to get on the bus and just keep going. Anywhere and nowhere at the same time. Away from memories and the ghosts of freckled hands and pink lips and annoying yet satisfying laughter. 

He wishes he had a lot of things right now, but the truth is his balls are still in a jar tucked Christ knows where in a house on South Wallace where every wall that used to keep himself from letting anyone get too close, fell, like his knees to the carpet in Ian’s childhood bedroom. 

He lost a lot of things in that bedroom. Things he will never be able to get back. Things he knows he never should have had to begin with. Him and Ian had been on borrowed time from the beginning; walking a very thin line between happiness and chaos; and he knew he never deserved any of it. The good times or the bad. The sickness or the health. He would have given Ian everything, and had, but the line blurred and he stumbled and was left face first in a pile of wasted time that he only blames himself for. 

Who is he gonna blame? Ian? He did, for a long time. But he did this, he knows he did. What did he honestly think was gonna happen? Did happily ever after even exist for people like him. He had told Ian he was fucked for life, but he fell for that glimmer of hope and the softness in Ian’s eyes and he should have just stuck to his guns and kept his balls tucked away where they belonged because he knew he’d always end up here; alone waiting for the bus on a dirty bench outside the prison. 

He thinks of Ian, but it doesn’t matter because he does that a lot and he’s okay with it even after all this time. Because its just a part of who he is now; what they were, what they had; and Ian is somewhere out there just like he will be once he gets on this bus. They will head in different directions for the rest of their lives; never quite ending up in the same place, just like before; and life will go on. He will love him; because no matter how many different ways he tried to spin it in that cell night after night for years; to him is was the closest thing he’d ever felt to love, no matter what kind of ending it had. 

But it had ended, as abruptly as it began, and now he’s getting on a bus to go someplace that may never feel like home without Ian. But he’s got a life to live now; just like Ian’s been doing this whole time; and maybe for once, he’s gonna be okay with that. 

He kinda has to be, because the world spins, no matter who comes and goes, and he’s seen pretty much everybody go. So the world will spin, and he will live, and maybe one day he will get that jar back with his balls in it but for now he thinks he will be okay without them. Because he’s okay to live in the world just knowing Ian is out there. Its some sappy shit he knows, but that’s what happens when someone changes you down to your very core. 

The bus comes to a screech and Mickey gets on, alone but free. It’s a strange feeling, but he knows no matter how he may have felt before; in a bar full of people as he screams his truth for a redhead who had no idea what it all really meant; this was real freedom. Letting go. 

That felt better than any declaration that came with a chipped tooth and broken ribs.  
  
**_Second, third, and hundredth chances  
Balancin' on breaking branches_**  
  
He hears the back door open to the kitchen and Ian looks up from stirring the pasta in a large boiling pot. He smiles at Trevor, as he unloads his messenger bag on the table and a large stack of manilla folders. 

“Hey,” Trevor breathes out and stares at the folders before breaking himself out of work mode. 

“Long day?” Ian smirks and goes back to dinner on the stove. 

“Yeah. The center decided to branch out for help from different angles and we started this work study thing for newly released prisoners. Got our new guy today.” 

Ian’s mind instantly goes where it shouldn’t, but he quickly locks it away; back to where its been for almost 3 years now. Safe in the back of his cluttered and overflowing mind; back in a drawer, all the way in the back with all the other shit he hasn’t told his boyfriend yet. Things he wants to hold onto just a little longer before he finally lets them go forever. If he even ever does. Some things he wont ever be able to part with. 

“What’s he like?” 

“Mmm,” Trevor presses a small kiss to Ian’s shoulder before grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge. “Quiet. Rough around the edges.” 

“Well, he did just get out of prison. Can’t imagine someone not being like that.” 

“Yeah. But I think he will be good for the center. Talked to him for a while; normal application bullshit. Background shit. He’s been through it. But he wants a new life. Start over. Get his shit together. I think he might be good for the kids, you know? Maybe help them see the alternative if they let their anger and shame get the best of them.” 

“Queer?” 

“Gay. Could tell it was still hard for him to admit, which I get being from this neighborhood. But he’s got that anger behind his eyes, you know? But I think he will be able to connect.” Ian turns to see Trevor eyeing him. “Danny.” They both say at the same time and Trevor smiles. “Yeah, I think if anyone can get through to Danny, its gonna be this guy.” 

“I’m glad. That kids been through it too, you know?” 

Trevor nods, peering into the pot of pasta before he makes his way back to the table and sits down, shuffling folders around. “I got so much paperwork to do tonight. Gotta make sure I fill out this paperwork right for his PO.” 

“As long as you think the center will help him and vise versa.” Ian grabs plates down from the cabinet as he shuts off the oven burner. 

“Yeah, I hope it can help him. No one has ‘Fuck-U-Up' tattooed on their fingers without a real shitty story behind it, you know?” 

Ian doesn’t even flinch when the plates fall out of his long fingers and shatter apart at his feet.  
  
**_I can see you standing, honey  
With his arms around your body  
Laughin', but the joke's not funny at all_**  
  
“Danny, listen man, you know the drill. How long you been coming here, eh? We all got a fucked up story. But I gotta say, as angry and as in the closet I was when I was your age, we never had nothing like this around when I was going through it. Not saying I would have stepped place in this hell hole back then, but who the fuck knows? Maybe it would kept my ass outta juvie and then prison. You picking up what I’m putting down here, tough guy?” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Yeah, that’s about what I expected.” Mickey slams a pen down on the table. “Now write your feelings down or some shit so I can at least say I did something.” 

“Can I write what a fucking pussy faggot I think you are?” 

Mickey slides his eyes shut, thumbing his bottom lip and remembers to count to 5 before he reacts or breaks this kids nose. “Nothing I ain’t been called before. But if it gets you writing, have at it.” 

He can hear Danny mumbling to himself as he goes back up to the front of the center, trying to figure out his next task. Trevor’s office door is open and he can hear 2 voices coming from it and he glances once, quickly, but then decides its really none of his fucking business. 

Trevor seems...okay. A little too enthusiastic, open minded and full of hope that Mickey finds rather irritating, but it’s the first time in a long time that someone actually believes Mickey can actually accomplish something. Mickey has no idea what he’s really doing here. His main job is just to keep the kids calm, make them feel like they belong and all that horse shit and participate in the exercises and at the end of the day Mickey can honestly say he’s grown to give a shit about something again. 

Mickey hears Trevor’s voice pick up in volume and Mickey doesn’t mean to look or listen but he’s gotten so used to being involved in so much petty drama in prison, he almost cant help it. It was one of the only real forms of entertainment when he was in that hell, so its like second nature now to tune in. 

“I don’t understand why its such a big deal? Its your mother. You should be happy to see her!” 

“Happy? Happy?” 

Oh fuck. No. This cannot be happening. 

“Do you have any idea what she’s put me through? Put all of us through?” 

“She’s still your mother, Ian. Maybe you should just give her a chance.” 

Ian. Ian. Ian. 

Mickey feels dizzy and he has to grab the edge of the table so he doesn’t buckle at the weight of his own past. 

“You don’t understand.” Ian’s voice sounds so defeated and it makes Mickey’s chest ache in a way he isn't even sure how to decipher. 

Mickey cant tear his eyes away from the office and then he sees it. Trevor wraps his arms around Ian’s tall frame and Ian looks down at him with something Mickey hasn’t seen in a long time. 

Love. 

“Maybe I don’t understand. But I want to. I’d like to meet her.” 

Mickey’s never met Monica. Not once. Ian talked about her in passing, In the darkness of Ian’s bedroom when they were curled together, Ian would mention her, sometimes good things, mostly bad. But Mickey had never met her. 

But Trevor will. 

Trevor gets a lot of things, Mickey can tell, when it comes to Ian that Mickey never did. Trevor gets his stability. He gets him, post Mickey, and he can tell by the way that EMT uniform fits so perfectly on Ian’s tall frame, that post Mickey is the Ian he was meant to be. 

“Okay.” Ian kisses Trevor gently, and they have their arms wrapped around each other and Mickey wants to get angry. He should be angry. He should be jealous and he should destroy everything in his path with rage and regret. But he doesn’t. And Mickey doesn’t know if its his new outlook on life, the years of therapy in prison where most of his sessions were spent talking about Ian and all the trauma that went along with it, or the fact that he actually respected Trevor and what he’s done with this place and just his overall attitude about Mickey, but he does nothing. He cant take his eyes off them, but he doesn’t do or feel anything but a sense of loneliness that has been imbedded in his bones for years now. 

Ian turns, smiling and his eyes sweep over Mickey from across the room. He can see Ian tense, his blue work shirt tight around his biceps and Trevor is just smiling and his eyes brighten when his own eyes fall on Mickey watching them. 

“Oh! This is the guy I told you about.” Trevor ushers Ian out of his office, his hand holding Ian’s gently as he pulls Ian across the room but Ian is practically being dragged and Mickey and Ian are locking eyes and Ian’s lips are parted in a sense of stunned silence but he can see that look in Ian’s eyes. Mickey had seen in for years when Ian looked at him. A mixture of awe and confusion. And arousal. Mickey should be happy about that; that his appearance and mere presence can still dig that out of Ian; but he isn't. Its still just loneliness. And he can deal with that emotion. Because if there was any other coursing through his veins right now, he’d of broken Trevor’s nose by now. 

“Ian, this is Mickey.” 

Ian slowly extends his hand out to Mickey and Mickey can't help but roll his eyes because it's clear now that Ian never once mentioned him to Trevor. Or anyone else probably. Mickey shakes his hand anyway. And if this was the old him, he would have pulled Ian close against his body and bury his face in the crook of his shoulder; a place he felt safe and calm; and rub his scent all over him in the hopes that Trevor would realize the reason for Ian’s sudden nervousness. But he won't. He can't. For so many reasons. 

“I’m gonna check on the kids. I’ll see you tonight?” Trevor points to Ian as he walks away but Ian just nods, never taking his eyes off Mickey’s. 

“When did you get out?” Ian asks, once Trevor is out of ear shot. 

“Month ago.” 

“You look good.” 

Mickey just lets his eyes trail over Ian’s uniform and back up to his face. “Went all official on me.” 

“Came from work.” 

“Mmm.” 

There’s a silence between them and it should be uncomfortable but its not. Which should seem odd, but its them; Ian and Mickey; and there's tons of history and packed up emotions hidden in closets and under beds, probably where Mickey’s balls are. 

“I should have come and seen you.” 

Mickey shrugs. “Maybe, doesn’t matter now does it? Probably better you didn’t. You moved on. Got your shit together. I’m...glad.” 

“You’re different.” 

“I am. A little.” Mickey looks over at Trevor who is bent down over Danny, who is just looking at him with a look of disgust. Mickey wishes he could still be that way. He just doesn’t have it in him anymore. “Trevor seems nice.” 

“He is.” Ian whispers. But there's things left unsaid at the end of it. Things that Mickey can hear vibrating out of Ian’s body language. ‘He isn't you.’ And Mickey wants to respond to it, but won't. 

“Mick...I...” 

Mickey holds a hand up. “Don't. Listen, I like Trevor. He’s giving me a shot here, and I don’t hate this place. I’m trying to get my life back and you seem to have a good one, and this ain’t gonna end well if we decide to take a trip down memory lane. What happened, happened. It was real and confusing and it ended badly, just like we knew it would. But I’m alive and out and moving on and so are you so lets just leave it at that, okay?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Mickey swallows down the need to spit in Ian’s face and scream about how those words don’t mean shit when Ian left him there in prison to rot, never looking back. But the therapy in prison must have helped because as much as Mickey thinks he should say those things, he wont. Because Ian was just a kid, and so was Mickey. And as much as Mickey wanted and thought it was going to be forever; that were destined to be together and all that fucking bullshit fucked up teenagers always think; it wasn’t. 

“I know.” 

Ian cant seem to break the eye contact they have, so Mickey knows he has to. He looks over at Trevor, now trying to have, what looks like a deep meaningful conversation with Tiffany; a girl whose home life seems to mirror Mickey’s old one; and clears his throat. “I gotta get back to work. It was good to see you, Gallagher.” 

“Can I see you sometime? Maybe get a beer or...” 

Mickey sighs. “You’ll see me a lot working here. Let's just keep this simple. Don’t want to mess nothing up for you, since its fucking clear Trevor has no idea who the fuck I am.” 

“Its not like that. I just...” 

“You don’t gotta explain, Gallagher. I get it. No need to make things harder than they already are.” 

“Yeah, okay.” Ian rubs the back of his neck and Mickey has a sudden wish to know if the hair there is still soft. Ian looks good, really good. Healthy and happy and he’s not an idiot. There are still feelings here; you don’t just have those feelings disappear just because the person who made you feel them, did. 

But this isn't his Ian anymore. Mickey doesn’t think Ian ever really was his to begin with. Ian could never really belong to anyone. He was a force of nature; a breeze right before a storm. Gone in a second. He didn’t belong to Trevor, even Mickey can see that. And Mickey knows he will probably be left right where Mickey is now. Wondering how you ended up there and picking up the pieces after the storm has cleared. 

“Guess I’ll see ya then.” Ian gives him one last long look; his green eyes dark with confusion and fear; and Mickey just nods before turning on his heel and going back to the activity desk he was at before his past came back to haunt him. He muddles around; trying to pick something for the kids to do for the rest of the afternoon and because the feeling essay exercise is over as far as Mickey was concerned. 

He’s felt enough today.  
  
**_Those eyes add insult to injury_**  
  
Ian doesn’t get out of bed the next day. 

Or the next. 

On the third day, Lip is standing in the doorway of his bedroom, smoking a cigarette silently as he stares at him. 

“This because of Mickey?” 

It’s the first time reaction Ian’s given in 3 days. It's just a simple lift of his head off the pillow, but it's something, and his brother knows it. 

“Thought so.” Lip sits on the edge of the bed, just smoking his cigarette and Ian will never understand, how even in times of drama and sadness, Lip always manages to look cool. It's something Ian has never been able to pull off. It’s a funny thing to think of in that moment, but it also makes him think of Mickey. 

“How’d you know?” 

“Everyone knows.” 

“He’s working at the center. With Trevor. Their like friends or something. He’s different. He’s not mad or sad or anything.” 

“First off, there is so much about that whole statement that I could spend hours on, but I’ll stick to the part that’s been keeping you in bed for days.” Lip sighs. “You wanted Mickey to be mad?” 

“He usually is,” Ian mumbles. 

“That’s true, but maybe he did change. Maybe he found the light in prison. Isn't that good? And you’re with Trevor and that’s good too, right?” 

“Trevor’s good. That’s not the problem. It's just seeing Mickey like that, all Zen and shit just made me realize…” 

“It's over?” 

Ian buries himself deeper into the cocoon of his blankets. “I guess I always thought one day I’d see him again and I wouldn’t be that scared fucked up kid anymore and we would just take one look at each other and know. That this was it. Me and him.” 

“But that’s not real life, Ian. That’s movie type shit. And that’s not what happens to us. Sometimes the ending, is really the end.” 

“You're saying that because you never liked Mickey.” 

Lip chuckles. “He’s far from my favorite person, but he stepped up when you were sick. He did the best he could. He tried. And he cared.” 

“And I ruined it.” 

“I think if you two had stayed together when you were refusing to take your pills and lying in the dirty pool with all your clothes on, it probably would have ended worse.” 

Ian finally sits up and lights his own cigarette. “I should be happy for him. But I’m not. I’m the one who’s angry. I’m the one who’s jealous.” 

“So this is just normal depression over an ex? Not…” 

“No,” Ian answers quickly. “Not like that.” 

“So I’m guessing Trevor doesn’t know about Mickey.” Ian’s silence answers for him. “Figured.” 

“Should I tell him?” 

Lip just shrugs. “Would it fuck things up? For all of you?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Then the answer is, I don’t know either.” 

Ian sucks nicotine into his lungs and squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s really over.” 

Lip reaches out and pats Ian’s knee reassuringly. “Yeah, man, its really over.”  
  
**_You're not my homeland anymore  
So, what am I defending now?_**  
  
Iggy has his feet propped up on the coffee table when Mickey gets home to his apartment. Well, Iggy’s apartment with his baby Mama and 2-year-old. But Iggy is letting him stay here for the time being, because Iggy gets it. Gets why going back to that house would be the worst thing in the world for him and Mickey would be lying if he said he wasn't proud as fuck of his brother for getting out too. 

“Sup.” Iggy mumbles, shoving Cheetos in his mouth as he watches ‘Dog the Bounty Hunter.’ Mickey smirks and drops his bookbag on the kitchen table. “How’s the gay youth of America?” 

“A lot more together than we ever were. Gay or not.” 

Iggy snorts. “The only gay one here is you, friend of Dorothy.” 

“Where do you even come up with this shit?” Mickey gets out a beer out of the fridge and sits heavily down next to his brother on the couch. 

“You see Gallagher, yet?” 

Mickey lets out a loud woosh of air from his lungs and he thinks it's almost nice that Iggy wants to talk about shit, but he isn't sure he can. It's still too fresh; it being only a week since that awkward but pretty final conversation with Ian. He had seen his PO since then; him telling Mickey how Trevor just raves about the work and effort he’s putting in at the center and his PO looked delighted and relieved and somewhat proud of Mickey. The whole thing made Mickey’s skin itch for so many reasons he wasn’t ready to really think about yet, so he just answers Iggy with a small nod that he isn't even sure his brother will see. 

“Mmm. That over?” 

“Yeah, it's over.” Mickey mumbles. 

“You should go get your dick sucked.” 

Mickey nearly spits out his beer and frowns at his brother. “What the fuck?” 

Iggy just shrugs, Cheeto crumbs on his dirty shirt. Some things never change. “Just saying. Been in prison for years man. I doubt there was any quality ass in there with all the rapists and murderers. But you’re out now. Got a job and shit. Seem good. Next step, getting your dick wet. Or dirty in an ass, whatever it is you fags do.” 

Mickey shakes his head at his brother and lets his eyes fall back on the TV. “Dad’s still out there.” 

Iggy swallows a mouthful of orange snack and looks pointedly at his brother. “You honestly still scared of Dad?” 

“Aren't you?” 

“Nah, man. Dad’s so fucking high all the time it's just a matter of time before he does something stupid and gets himself locked up again. Live your life. He comes after you, you know I’ll have your back.” 

“You got a family now. You don’t need to be doing any stupid shit.” 

“It's sweet and almost weird that you’re concerned for me, but I can take care of myself. I ain't scared of Dad. And you shouldn’t be either.” Iggy stands, dusting off orange powder from his shirt onto the floor. “It's fucking Friday night man. Go out. Don’t be a loser like me stuck in the apartment with a kid.” 

“Been there, done that.” 

“So, you get it.” As if on cue, Madeline comes running up and wraps her chubby arms around her father’s legs. 

“Daddy, dolls?” 

Iggy sighs heavily but rubs his daughter's hair. “Sure kid.” He gives Mickey one last look before following Madeline into her room. “Go, Mick. You deserve it.” 

Mickey peels the label from his beer bottle and again his mind wanders to Ian. It's over, he knows that for sure, but he hasn’t stepped foot in a club or gay bar since Ian. He isn't afraid of the memories; he just isn't sure he’s ready. He did what he needed to do in prison, but it wasn’t the kind of fucking you did for pleasure. It was survival. But he didn’t need to do that anymore. He’s living now, more than he ever has. 

But his brother has a point. He’s been out almost 2 months now and he has money in his pocket and an address to give his PO and even though his knuckles still show threats, he doesn’t feel the need to toss them around anymore. 

He grabs his keys before he can talk himself out of it.  
  
**_I can see you starin', honey  
Like he's just your understudy  
Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me_**  
  
Leave it to Monica to wanna go to the club the first time she meets Ian’s boyfriend. 

She went on and on and on in the Uber about how adorable Trevor was; being totally inappropriate and saying all the things you shouldn’t say when he found out he was Transgender, but Trevor, like always, took it well and just smiled and corrected her when she went a little too far. 

Monica is bouncing on the heels of her feet in manic energy and its giving Ian a headache. He’s tired. Still coming off a wave of depression, one that wasn’t as bad as it had been before, or could have been, but his mind is still foggy and the pain in his chest is still there because no matter how great is life is, when something truly ends, it doesn’t feel great. No matter how necessary it is. 

Trevor just smiles and takes everything that Monica is, in, and he orders them shots at the bar, even though he thinks it’s the worst idea in the world for him and Monica to drink together. Ian tried to warn Trevor, for days, about how badly this could go, but Trevor, always wanting to see the good in people and in every situation, just promised Ian it would be okay. But Ian knows it won't. He has this feeling in the pit of his stomach; and he doesn’t know if it's just the onslaught of Hurricane Monica back with a vengeance that has him so on edge or if it's his Spidey sense tingling but something bad is going to happen tonight. 

He just can't pinpoint what it will be. 

But he knows alcohol won't help it. 

The music is loud and the beat is drumming in his bones and Ian just watches as Trevor and Monica laugh and point to hot guys on the dancefloor and he feels sick. He wants his bed back. He’s safe there. But he promised Trevor he would try. He’s always trying. 

“Holy fuck, Ian! Look, Mickey’s here. Good for him!” 

Ian follows Trevor’s finger to a wall across the dancefloor where Mickey is nursing a glass filled with dark liquid and there's a tall motherfucker leaning down and whispering something in Mickey’s ear that is making Mickey give this smirk; a smirk Ian knows well. Because Mickey used to give him that smirk. Its IAN’S smirk and its causing a fight or FIGHT instinct to boil inside Ian’s blood. 

“OH! Ian sweetie. He looks so good. It must have been forever since you’ve seen him.” Monica’s voice breaks Ian out of his angry glaring and he whips his head to look at her. 

“Mom, shut up.” 

“No, honey, go talk to him. I know things ended badly, but you should go and talk to him. You never forget your first love.” Monica pats Ian’s face and gives him that smile; that ‘I’m trying to be a good mom and your friend’ smile that makes Ian’s skin crawl. 

“What is she talking about?” Trevor is looking at them, confusion all over his face. 

“Nothing, she’s drunk. Let's just go, I really don’t want to be here.” Ian tries to grab Trevor’s hand but he yanks it away before Ian can get a good grip on it. 

“No, what is she talking about, Ian? Do you know Mickey? Like not just from the center?” 

“Ohhh! He works at the center! That is so nice. I bet he helps so many kids. Poor thing, growing up the way he did. Can't imagine living through the hell his father put him through. And Ian, being so brave and standing up to him like that just because you loved Mickey so much-” 

“Monica, SHUT UP.” Ian yells and Monica snaps her mouth shut almost instantly. He looks back at Trevor and his lips are tight and he’s searching Ian’s face for some type of answers. 

“I wanted to tell you. But it's not something I talk about. Mickey and I... are...were complicated.” 

Trevor swallows. “How complicated? Is she right? First love? So, you knew him when I introduced you guys at the Center and you just said nothing? Why didn’t you just tell me you knew him? What’s the big deal? So, you guys dated. I’ve dated plenty of people.” 

“I don’t talk about Mickey. With anyone.” Ian whispers. 

“Well, you obviously talked about it with your mother.” 

“That’s because she was there for some of it. In and out of my life during that time. And the last time she swept in I had taken off with her just after I was diagnosed and when I got back...I... Mickey...” Ian sighs, rubbing his hands down his face. He can't do this. How does he explain him and Mickey to someone like Trevor? 

“You still love him?” 

“It's complicated.” 

“He never said anything either. Why didn’t either of you just tell me? If it's not a big deal, why not just say ‘hey we know each other’?” 

“Mickey really needs this job. Maybe he didn’t because he was scared, you’d let him go or something because he used to date your boyfriend. But please, don’t do that. He’s getting his life together-” Ian pleads. 

“If you honestly think I’m the kind of person who would do that, that really says something about you, Ian. And it wasn’t his business to tell me, honestly. It was yours. What are you hiding? Are you fucking him?” 

“What!? No! I’m not cheating on you.” Ian moves closer to Trevor. “Just let me explain. Please.” 

Trevor sighs and looks over at Mickey who is even closer to that tall motherfucker than before and now Ian realizes; now that the lights are brighter and swarming around the two of them; the tall motherfucker has red hair. 

“Guess he has a type, huh?” Trevor spits out, anger in his voice. 

“Trevor...” 

“I need to go. You lied, Ian. And there’s a reason you lied. And I’m not sure what it is, but we don’t lie to each other. I’ve been open and honest from the beginning with you, about everything. And I thought you were too.” 

“I am! You know pretty much everything! I’ve told you about my disorder and my family and I told you about Monica!” Ian looks over at his mother but she’s just bouncing to the music, sipping her drink, eyes unfocused and not even paying attention anymore to the shit storm she caused. “This is just one thing I needed to keep to myself. There’s a lot of history behind it and it's not something I can talk about easily.” 

“And I get that, Ian, I do. We all have shit from our past that is hard. But you lied. I introduced you to him and talked about him and fuck, I even like the guy. And you never said one word. In 2 months. How long did you think you could let this go on? That I’d never find out?” 

“I was going to tell you. Eventually. When I was ready.” 

Trevor shakes his head and sets his drink down on the bar. “Yeah, well you come find me when you are.” 

Ian watches Trevor leave, eyes brimming with emotion and he gives Mickey one last look, who now has his face buried in tall red-haired motherfuckers neck, and a tiny sob escapes his chest. 

He knew this night was going to be bad. 

But Ian can't decide which is worse; watching Mickey so open with some other guy or the fact that his boyfriend just stormed off. 

Ian leaves his mother at the bar; Monica not even paying attention as he leaves; not knowing that Mickey has been watching him the whole time.  
  
**_You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out_**  
  
Mickey sees him leave. He saw the whole heated exchange between Ian and Trevor and what Mickey knows in his gut, is Monica. He sees Ian stand there, defeated, as Trevor walks away and Mickey also knows, deep in his gut because they had been looking at Mickey while he let what’s his name grind into him, that whatever drama took place, somehow Mickey was involved in. 

He shouldn’t care. Ian should have told Trevor about him. But maybe Mickey should have come clean too. It’s a fucking up situation, one that Mickey doesn't want to be in at all, but he knew keeping it from Trevor wasn’t the right thing to do. But Mickey wasn’t the one dating Trevor. Mickey convinced himself it was Ian who needed to tell him and whatever Trevor did after that was his choice. 

But whatever went down tonight, wasn’t good, Mickey knows that for sure. 

He lets what’s his name kiss his neck and whisper dirty things to do him, but Mickey pushes him off a couple minutes after Ian leaves, because his mind just isn't into it anymore, and neither is his dick. Mickey got what he came for; just confirmation that he could get something if he wanted it, and left it at that. 

The air is colder than it was when Mickey had entered the bar, and he makes a mental note to get himself a new coat before the brutal Chicago winter rolls in. He lights his cigarette and contemplates how to get home. The L is the cheapest but its late and he doesn’t want to deal with assholes on the train at this hour, drunk and yelling. He had downloaded the UBER app a few days ago and he fucks around with it, trying to figure out how it even fucking works. 

“Your location isn't turned on.” 

Mickey rolls his eyes at the voice, but when he clicks a button, he realizes, the voice was right. 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

His location is found and Mike, his Uber driver is now 8 minutes away. Great. 8 minutes of standing there in the cold knowing damn well Gallagher is gonna make a point to stand with him the whole time. 

“You should, uh, know that Trevor knows now.” 

“K.” 

“I don’t think he’s gonna fire you or anything. He’s pissed at me, not you.” 

“The fuck he gotta be pissed at me for? You’re his boyfriend. Don’t understand why you didn’t say anything to begin with.” Mickey lights another cigarette and looks back and forth down the street, praying these now 7 minutes goes faster. 

“It’s not that simple.” 

“Gallagher, we used to bang. So, fucking what? It was years ago. If you’re gonna keep every dude you banged a secret from him, you got a lot of awkward encounters ahead of you.” 

“That’s all it was? Still?” 

Mickey feels the tension growing in his jaw and fists. He turns to Ian and Christ, how is he still so damn hot. “Look, I’m not gonna stand here in 30-degree weather and hash out what it meant and what it didn’t mean. You knew where I stood back then. It was what it was. It took me a long time to move on and accept it. Trevor is a good dude, giving me a chance. I don’t know why you lied and I don’t care. I didn’t tell him because it wasn’t my business. I ain't fucking him, you are. So, work out your shit and leave me the fuck out of it.” 

“There he is.” 

“Huh?” Mickey raises an eye brow at Ian. 

“There’s the anger. I wondered if it was still in there.” 

“I ain’t angry. I’m annoyed. Because your God damn annoying. Glad to see some things haven't changed.” 

“Were you gonna let that guy fuck you?” 

Mickey lets out a low growl of frustration. “It's none of your fucking business.” 

“Still like redheads, huh?” 

“I like guys. Hot guys.” 

“Mmm.” 

Mickey shoves his hands deep into his coat pocket and lets the silence wash over them. “That your mom in there?” 

“Yeah. Hurricane Monica. Running her mouth and just sitting back and watching the storm destroy everything in her path.” 

“You okay?” Mickey clears his throat. 

“No. But you don’t really care, do you?” 

Mickey lets his eyes slide shut and takes 2 deep breathes before he answers. “Of course, I still care. This isn't about me caring about your tall ass. This is about my getting my life back and not falling back into old patterns. I’m always gonna fucking care, Gallagher.” 

“I feel like I was in a fog until I saw you again. Like I was seeing things in black and white and then bam. There you were in the center and now the colors are so bright, I can't stand to look at anything.” 

Mickey swallows hard and curls his hands into fists in his coat pocket. “Ian, you taking your meds, man?” 

Ian sighs softly. “Yeah, I’m taking them.” 

Mickey’s gray Nissan Altima pulls up and he gives Ian one last look before opening the back door. “Go talk to your boyfriend. Sort shit out. I ain’t worth trashing a relationship for.” 

“You could do better than that guy in there, you know.” 

Mickey almost smiles. “Yeah, I probably could.” 

Mickey slams the car door shut and gives Ian one last look before they pull away from the curb. He doesn’t know how long Ian stands there, and he’s pissed that he even cares.  
  
**_I'm not your problem anymore  
So who am I offending now?_**  
  
Trevor opens the door for him, even though Ian can tell he doesn’t want to. 

He wipes his shoes on the mat, but doesn’t take his jacket off. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but it's safer to keep it on in case this is the end. 

“You gonna tell me the truth now?” 

Ian nods and takes a long slow breath. 

“Mickey and I were together from the time I was 15 till almost 18. He was in the closet most of that time. His dad, is fucking horrible. There is so much shit that happened between us, stuff no one knows about. Stuff I can't fucking talk about. Bad shit. Horrible traumatic shit. But I can tell you that I loved him. That he came out for me. He took beatings from his Dad for me. When I got diagnosed, he was there for me even though I didn't want him to be. He put up with so much shit I put him through. And he still loved me. It's my fault he was in prison. And the only time I went to see him, I told him lies and he knew I was lying. I left him in there alone, and just moved on.” 

“Maybe that was the right thing to do.” Trevor offers, sitting on the arm of his couch. 

“Maybe. I don't know. Sometimes I don’t know if it was. Mickey and I were fucked up kids. But we had each other. We both made a ton of mistakes but when it came down to it, we had each other. And I let my bi-polar ruin that.” 

“So why didn’t you just tell me you knew him?” 

“Because its mine. That relationship. Those memories. That love. That regret. Its mine. I don’t talk about it with anyone. I tried once with another boyfriend and he didn’t get it. He made me feel like Mickey was horrible and he’s not. He’s just another fucked up kid from Southside but he wasn’t that when he was with me. I can't explain this to you, because I can barely make sense of it myself. All I can say is I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But there are things about myself, my past, that have to stay hidden. Even just for a little while longer. I can't talk about them with you, until I sort them out myself. Does that make sense? Can you accept that?” 

Trevor hangs his head and looks down at his hands, sorting through Ian’s words. 

“I love you, Ian. And I’m not the jealous type. We all have pasts. And I like Mickey. He’s a good guy and deserves a second chance at a decent life, but I have to wonder with all these secrets, do I have something to be worried about?” 

“Mickey doesn’t want me anymore.” 

“But do you want him?” 

Ian lets the pain in his chest stay there, aching and making him hard to breathe as he lies to his boyfriend. Again. 

“No.”  
  
**_I think I've seen this film before  
And I didn't like the ending_**  
  
Mickey is already at the center when Trevor gets there. They lock eyes from across the room and he motions his head for Mickey to follow him into his office. Mickey wonders if this is it. If Trevor is going to tell him this just isn't working out or maybe a few punches are going to be thrown to show dominance. Either way, Mickey is ready. Ready for whatever is about to happen. 

“I just want to clear the air. I know about you and Ian, and we’re fine. I respect the work you’re doing here and I think you’re a good guy. I have no problem with you being here, if you were worried. I get why you didn’t tell me; Ian’s my boyfriend, he should have been the one to. So, I guess I just wanted to tell you we’re good and keep up the good work.” 

Mickey wasn’t expecting that. 

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” 

Trevor smiles. “Ian and I are gonna grab a few beers tonight at the Albi. It's his brother's birthday.” 

“Carl?” 

“Yeah,” Trevor nods. “Might be nice if you came.” 

“I’m not trying to be friends with Ian.” 

“Maybe you should be.” 

Mickey knows Trevor is trying. Trying to show he’s okay with it. Trying to show things can be normal. Which means Ian didn’t tell him everything. Poor guy. 

“Got plans tonight, but maybe another time.” 

“Okay. Can you make sure everything is set up for the basketball exercise?” Mickey nods and walks slowly from Trevor's office. This isn't going to end well. He can feel it. Yeah, things are good now, but he isn't sure if Trevor is really that nice of a guy and that naïve to think that it could be this simple. And as much as Mickey wants it to be this simple, it's not. It's Ian. And it's him. And it may be okay for a while but something, really anything, is going to burst this bubble. 

Mickey wonders if he should just ask his PO for another work assignment. But the problem with that is, is that he actually thinks he's connecting with some of these kids. Danny is his project; mean and rough and closeted with a bad home life; which reminds Mickey so much of what he went through. So, Mickey will just wait and watch the whole thing blow up and try and pick up the pieces after. 

He just didn’t expect it to be so soon. 

Because the truth is, he does end up going to the Alibi that night. He hadn't been since he was out and the place holds a lot of memories for him and he kinda wanted to see how Carl turned out. 

When he walks in, balloons and music blasting and Carl doing a keg stand behind the bar, Mickey can't help but smile. Kev sees him first, screaming and throwing his arms in the air. 

“Another reason to celebrate. Mickey fucking Milkovich in the house!” 

The bar erupts in cheers and applause and he gives the crowd a small wave before settling in at the bar. There’s a beer in front of him before he can even ask and it feels nice to be back. 

“Mickey Milkovich, I live and breathe.” Lip pats him on the shoulder and Mickey brushes it off and they both share a small smirk. “Good to see you.” 

“Yeah, you too.” Mickey says quietly, his eyes falling on Ian and Trevor across the room, huddled in a booth together across from Debbie and Fiona. 

“He’s good to him. You don’t need to worry.” 

“Not.” 

“Heard you’re doing good working at the center.” 

“Ian still running his trap about my personal business?” 

“Every chance he gets.” 

They both smile as they sip their beers. 

“He thinks you’ve really moved on.” 

“Trying to.” 

“That what you really want?” 

Mickey shrugs. “Don't have much choice in the matter.” 

Lip shakes his head. “When it comes to Ian, there’s always a choice. Just make sure you make the right one.” 

Mickey watches Lip make his way over to Ian’s table, pulling up a chair and sitting at the end of the booth. Mickey thinks about going over there; trying the whole friends things Trevor had insinuated, but he’s not sure he’s really ready. Because that comes with emotions and responsibility, he doesn’t have time for. 

He’s going to finish his beer and go home and get a good night's sleep so he can live his life all over again tomorrow. 

The bar door bursts open and all of the air in the room disappears. Because his father is standing only a few feet away from him, sweaty and dirty and obviously already drunk. 

“Well would you look at that. Is that my pole smoking queer of a son out of jail finally? What, can't come see your old man?” 

Mickey is frozen in his spot. He can't move. He can't blink. He can't breathe. The bar falls silent and Kev moves from behind the bar to stand next to Mickey. 

“You can go out the back. I’ll keep him off ya.” Kevin whispers. Mickey just shakes his head. He has to do this. He can't keep dodging him forever. 

“Hey Dad.” Mickey says, but his voice cracks and he wonders when he became this much of a pussy. 

“So, prison turn you straight or are you still a faggot?” 

Mickey can see Ian pushing his way out of the booth across the room and all Mickey can think is ‘please not now, Gallagher. Let me handle it.’ 

But Terry sees Ian as soon as he stands up and Terry barrels into the bar, face contorting with sneers. “Oh, I see. Still letting this ginger turn you into a pussy huh? Should have killed you when I had the chance.” Terry forces his way through people, trying to get to Ian but Kev puts himself between him and Ian. 

“You’re drunk Terry. You ain’t getting anymore here. Go home and sleep it off.” 

“Me and this ginger queer have a debt to settle.” 

“Fuck you!” Ian screams from behind Kev and he tries to push him out of the way and suddenly Mickey finds himself flying off his barstool and pulling Ian back against his chest. 

“Ian, stop.” 

“So, you two are still rubbing your dicks together. I should put a bullet in both your heads, right now!” Terry pushes himself up against Kev, but Kev is stronger than Terry knows and his broad chest keeps Terry from moving past him. 

“I’m right here you fucking prick! Let's see what you got!” 

“Ian!” Mickey yells and realizes Trevor is now behind them, yelling Ian’s name too. 

“What is going on?” Trevor asks Mickey and now he knows Ian didn't tell him everything. Because this is their ghost; Ian and Mickey’s together; and no matter how you explain it, no one will ever really understand. 

“I’m gonna kill you, faggot!” Terry screams, throwing over chairs and pushing his body into Kev, making him stumble on his tall, large frame and grabs Ian by the throat. 

And for the first time in a long time, Mickey feels the anger and the adrenaline and intensity boil up from deep inside him. Because no matter what, no one hurts Ian. 

No one. 

Mickey grabs his glass of beer off the bar and smashes it over Terry’s hit with a loud smash and there’s blood everywhere within seconds but Terry just roars like some kind of animal and plows his bloody head into Mickey’s. But Ian is there, instantly, with a glass pitcher to the back of Terry’s head and a punch in the throat. Mickey remembers that move; Ian used it on him once when he was kicking the shit out of that old fuck. It works, even for a just a second for them to get their bearings and Kev has Terry pinned against his chest under his arms, but Terry is kicking and struggling and Mickey and Ian waste no time with getting punches and kicks in on the man who still haunts both of them in their nightmares. 

“Fuck you! You fucking piece of shit. I’ll kill you. You don’t touch him! You never get to touch him again! I hate you. Don't fucking touch him!” Ian is screaming and punching and spitting and kicking Terry over and over and Mickey finally stops his own assault and just watches Ian channel all his rage and years of trauma out on the man who caused it. Mickey has blood running down into his mouth from his eye socket that might be broken, and Trevor is screaming from behind them for Ian to stop and finally Lip steps him and grabs Ian off Terry. Mickey snaps out of his daze of watching his ex-literally beat his father to death and helps Lip finally get a good grip on Ian to pull him off Terry. 

At this point, Terry is just a limp body in Kev’s arms and he lets Terry fall to the floor, unconscious. Ian falls to his knees; hands covered in a mixture of his and Terry’s blood and Mickey sees tears streaming down his face. Red tears. 

He turns his head to look at Mickey; who has his arm around his waist and realizes that he’s the one holding Ian against him because Lip is just kneeling, there on the other side of him, panting and searching his brothers face in fear and confusion. 

“Ian...” Mickey whispers, trying to get him to come back to him. Ian’s eyes focus on Mickey’s and Mickey reaches out to brush Ian’s blood-stained hair off his forehead. 

“He doesn’t get to hurt you anymore.” Ian whispers. 

“Okay. Okay.” Mickey murmurs and Ian falls into his body, sobbing. Mickey swallows hard and wraps his arms around his frame, petting the back of his head. The bar is quiet now; stunned silence and worried faces. 

Lip helps Kev carry Terry out onto the street and he hears Lip tell Kev to call the cops so they can pick Terry up for a long list of reasons. Mickey looks behind him at one point to find Trevor just standing there, an unreadable expression on his face. 

He tries to pull Ian off him; Mickey has no right to be the one holding him right now; but Ian just clutches him tighter murmuring ‘no, no, no’ over and over so he just lets Ian cling to him. Mickey gives Trevor a look of apology but Trevor just stares at them. Mickey knows the look staring back at him. He’s mastered it. 

Defeat. 

“Ian, we need to get you cleaned up. You might need stitches. Come on.” Mickey stands, pulling Ian up with him. Ian sniffles and looks around, almost like he’d forgotten where he was for a second. He hands Ian over to Fiona, who is by his side in seconds and wipes his own face, coming back with a palm full of smeared blood. 

Lip whistles, looking after Ian as he is ushered off by his sister and looks at Mickey with wide eyes. “The fuck?” 

“Get to him a hospital. And check him in.” 

Lip gives him a confused look. 

“He’s manic. His meds aren't working.” 

Lip’s mouth falls open and he glances at Ian, sitting almost like a zombie in the booth, Fiona kneeling in front of him, wiping the blood of his face. 

“Holy shit.” Lip whispers. 

“Yeah.” 

Mickey takes a look around the now trashed bar and gives Kev a small nod before moving to walk out the back door. Trevor grabs his arm, not hard, but not entirely friendly either. 

“There’s still shit I don’t know, isn't there?” 

Mickey looks him dead in the eyes; eyes filled with worry and confusion. Mickey knows that look too. Especially when it comes to Ian. 

“Lip’s gonna get him to the hospital. Get his meds checked. He’s off.” 

“What?” Trevor looks over at Ian and drops Mickey’s arm. 

“He’s gonna need you. Go be with him.” 

Mickey is gone before Trevor can say another word.


	2. You were my crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Endings are hard.
> 
> But they bring new beginnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second part guys. Again, this fic has Trevor in it and like I said I made him more likable in this than the show did. He redeems himself in this fic. This IS Gallavich endgame with slow burn. But I always make them happy in the end. 
> 
> As always thanks for reading and I LOVE YOU ALL. 
> 
> <3

  
  
  
  
**_You're not my homeland anymore  
So, what am I defending now?_**  
  
Mickey never realized when he finally starting really living, that it would hurt this much. 

He had been beaten, abused, locked up, raped, and put through the ringer in every way possible. And he survived. But now that he actually had a life; a normal, stable, support from all sides, kinda life, he has never been in so much pain. 

Because ever since that night at the Alibi with his Dad and Ian...he has this itch underneath his skin. It reminds him of his teenage years, when the thing first started with Ian. How he couldn’t control his nervous energy and Mickey knew it was because he couldn’t wait until the next time saw him. But Mickey hasn’t seen Ian in almost a month. 

He can’t get that night out of his head. The way Ian looked; that darkness of anger and revenge in his eyes. Every crack to his father’s jaw and ribs, over and over, echo in his head at night when he can’t sleep. Mickey can still hear Ian’s sobs in his ears and feel his large limbs clinging to him on that dirty bar floor. And all Mickey can feel is this need to take care of him. Like he used to. Mickey’s whole life for a long time, was living and breathing for Ian Gallagher. Finding ways to protect him, even if it meant putting his own life on the line. Ian never got it. He probably still doesn’t all these years later. 

But Mickey spent years in prison mandated therapy talking about every fucking detail of his poor excuse of an existence, and most of those minutes; 120 every week; were spent talking about Ian. The mistakes he made. The mistakes he didn’t. Regrets. Good times and bad. Sickness and in health. And it took him 3 long years to realize there was nothing he could have done differently. He wouldn’t have done anything differently. Every decision he made; every left turn, instead of right, was all done for Ian. Maybe he could have told Ian sooner how much he cared. But the bottom line was, his dad would have killed them both. He almost did now, twice. And Mickey can’t help but wonder, does Ian get it NOW? 

Trevor doesn’t talk about it. He’s still nice and smiling and gives Mickey all the right encouragement that he offers up so easily, but they don’t mention that night. They don’t mention Ian. He’s there in the air between them; like a ghost haunting the both of them. But they both walk on eggshells around the red head not in the room, and Mickey doesn't know who is gonna break first. So, Mickey goes to work; tries to help the wayward youth of America, talks about shit with Trevor; some heavy some not; goes home to the apartment he shares with his brother, has a beer with him while playing dolls with his niece, goes to bed, and wakes up the next day to do it all over again. 

He doesn’t try to go back to the clubs. He isn't ready. He honestly hasn’t thought about sex in a long time. He wants to swear it isn't because his body literally can't respond to anyone but Ian. His body was responding to the redhead in the club but then his eyes fell on Ian and Mickey knew then the only reason he was growing a half chub was because he was staring at him. It's okay if he isn't ready. He actually even talked about it with Iggy, who oddly enough understood and wasn’t a total dick about it. Guess they both have grown up a lot. 

But Mickey can still smell Ian on his skin from that night when Ian’s iron grip left bruises on Mickey’s biceps. Ian Gallagher is under his skin, and there’s not a fucking thing he can do about it. 

It’s a little over a month since the Alibi and Mickey drops a few folders on Trevor’s desk about the new incoming orientation group coming in today and Trevor looks up at him with a look only Mickey would know.  
Ian. 

“What’s up?” Mickey asks, rubbing his bottom lip. 

Trevor lets out a small sigh. “He’s been asking for you.” 

Mickey swallows. “He still in the hospital?” 

Trevor shakes his head and stands up, coming around to lean against his desk in front of Mickey. “He’s been home a few days now. He keeps asking me if you’re alright.” 

“I am.” 

“I told him that. Told him your face is fine, your work is fine. You’re fine.” 

“But?” 

Trevor shrugs. “I Think he’s asking me something I can't tell him.” He pauses. “There’s a hell of a lot I don’t know, huh?” 

Mickey can only give him a short nod. 

“I’m not gonna pry, but obviously something pretty bad must of happened, and it involved your father.” 

Mickey doesn’t answer. 

“Something Ian is obviously not over.” 

“Probably not, no.” 

“Are you?” 

“I’m doing alright.” 

Trevor looks at Mickey with those big brown eyes that he knows let him get his way with Ian. And it almost works on him. Almost. 

“Ian and I have a fucked up, extremely traumatic past. It left us both disconnected with huge ass Fort Knox type walls up. But the bottom line is we loved each other. So yeah, the shit with my dad? It’s a story. But it's our story. And I’m sorry your boyfriend keeps asking about me, but I didn’t ask him to go all ape shit on my dad. But he did. I can't control him. And neither can you.” 

Trevor’s eyes widen as Mickey’s outburst. “I think you should go see him. He needs to talk this out and I’m not the person he needs to talk it out with.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Probably not, but this isn't about me. It's about Ian. And whether or not it's really over between us-” 

“Whoa. The fuck you talking about, over?” 

Trevor just shakes his head. “You didn’t see him in that hospital. I-” 

“Wait a fucking second. You leavin' him because he was manic and had an episode?” 

“No! No, I was there every fucking day, Mickey. I didn’t leave him. But he didn’t want me there! He kept yelling at me to leave him alone-” 

“And you don’t! You don’t leave him alone. It's just what he does. But he needs you.” 

“No,” Trevor shakes his head, tears brimming in his puppy dog eyes. “No, he doesn’t need me. He needs you. I tried, Mickey. I did. And you know what, if you hadn't have come back into his life, I might have stayed with him forever. And we both would have ended up resenting each other and turning into furniture to one another. I don’t want that. For him or me. I just want us to be happy. And I can't make him happy. But you can.” 

Mickey shakes his head, fingers creasing across his eyebrow. “No. I can't...It’s not like that anymore.” 

“Listen, don’t not make yourself happy on my account. I’m not gonna fire you or give you shit. I meant what I said. You are a good guy. Amazing actually. You are really getting through to these kids and I think you should stay here after your parole is up. If you want. So, if that’s what’s holding you back, don’t let it. But If it's honestly because you don’t love him anymore and you’ve really moved on, okay. Either way, he’s waiting for you. He probably always will be. The next guy might not be as lucky as me. At least I see this coming and can walk away with not as much road rash.” 

“You don’t love him?” Mickey asks quietly. Because Trevor deserves to be happy. So does Ian. Mickey accepted a long time ago maybe love just wasn’t in the cards for him. He meant it when he realized he just wanted Ian happy, not matter who he was with. 

“I do.” Trevor sighs out. “Of course, I do. But what good is that when the person you love, doesn’t feel the same way?” 

“He loves you. I can tell.” 

“Mmm. Yeah, he does. But not like he loves you. And I got no chance in hell against you, Milkovich.” 

“You sure about this?” Mickey gives Trevor a pointed look. Because there is no going back if this happens. For either of them. 

“Are you? Is Ian it for you? I’m not doing this in vain, am I?” 

Mickey shakes his head. “It's always been him.” 

“Then there’s nothing left for me.” 

They stand there in silence for a while; Trevor’s lost relationship and Mickey’s unexpected second chance, washing over them. 

“Take the rest of the day off.” 

Mickey looks at him, not meaning the wave of panic to wash over him. 

“I’m not firing you, I told you that. Go talk to Ian. See if there is anything there worth still exploring.” 

“And if there isn't?” 

“I’m still walking away. If it isn't you, it's not gonna be anyone, especially not me.” 

Mickey nods, turning to walk out the door. He stills, looking back over his shoulder. “For the record, if it isn't me, it should be you.” 

Mickey hears Trevor let out a loud breath. “Thanks, Mickey.”  
  
**_All this time  
We always walked a very thin line_**  
  
Mickey almost walks right in without knocking. Like 3 years haven’t passed and he and Ian haven’t been broken up that entire time. So, he knocks twice, loud, and when the door gets aggressively flung open and Fiona just stares at him like she’s not surprised at all to see him. 

“He here?” 

“Upstairs.” She opens the door wider and he gives her one more look before he enters, making sure it was okay that he was here. She nods towards the stairs, her one and only olive branch. He brushes past her, slow in his movements and takes 2 stairs at a time up to the second floor. Mickey gets a wave of DeJa'Vu when he stomps up onto the landing. The house looks and smells the same and he looks toward Ian’s old bedroom to find it empty. The door on the other end of the hallway is open and he walks slowly toward it and stops in the doorway when he sees Ian sitting on the bed by an open window, smoking a cigarette. 

“Ay.” 

Ian just glances over his shoulder at him and takes another long drag. 

“You okay?” 

“Didn’t steal any babies this time.” 

“Nah,” Mickey pushes the door open more but stays mostly outside the room. “But you did almost kill a guy.” 

“Wouldn’t have cared if I did.” 

“Amen to that.” 

Ian turns his whole body this time and he looks tired and worn out and deflated in that way he did last time. But he's still beautiful. 

“Tell me he’s at least locked up and it wasn’t all for nothing.” Ian asks. 

“Nah, it wasn’t. He had coke on him and everyone at the bar said he attacked you first so he got assault, possession and drunk and disorderly. With his record might be a year or so.” 

“Should have killed him.” Ian mumbles. 

“He has a big fat fuck in the ass of karma coming to him don’t worry.” Mickey leans against the door jamb, cracking his knuckles. 

“I'll never get used to that.” 

“What?” Mickey asks. 

“You being all Zen.” 

“Zen?” Mickey gives a short laugh. “It ain’t being Zen, man. Just not giving my time and energy to shit that don’t deserve it anymore.” 

“Like me?” 

Mickey sighs heavily. “Ian, man, it wasn’t like that. I just wanted you to be happy. 

That was the whole point, right? Getting away from me, getting your shit together? It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see you. I was just trying to do what was right.” 

“Yeah, I tried that once too. Big mistake.” 

Mickey makes his way to the edge of the bed and sits. Ian smells like soap, like he’s fresh from a shower and cigarettes. Its intoxicating because it's familiar. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“What?” 

“Anything.” Mickey lets out a slow breath. He’s trying. 

“Guess I didn’t realize how angry I still was until I saw him again. Talking to you like that. I... couldn’t take it, Mick. Maybe I’ll never be over that day.” 

“I’m not. That ain’t something you just get over. That shit stays with you. So, I get it. 

So, thanks for like defending my honor and shit.” 

Ian laughs and it’s the best sound ever. 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

“Trevor told me you guys split.” 

Ian just shrugs. 

“Come on, man.” 

“He tried. He did all the right things, said all the right things, but I don’t feel it. Maybe I never did, I don’t know.” 

“What do you feel?” 

“Regret.” Ian answers quickly. “Longing. Need. Jealousy.” 

Mickey bites his lower lip. “What do you regret?” 

Ian sighs, his eyes sliding shut. “You. What I did to you. Me for acting the way I did. The jealousy is just me being an asshole because you moved on with such grace and I’m still fumbling around trying to find my balance.” 

“Who says I moved on?” 

Ian’s eyes flutter open and Mickey finally looks at him, really looks at him like he used to. No walls, no fears, no father’s threatening their little bubble. Just them. Ian and Mickey. Mickey knows his balls are somewhere in this house, but it's fine. Its where they belong anyway. 

“Mick, don’t. Because I can't if you’re just trying to- “ 

“Tryin to what? I was told to come here by your boyfriend or ex-boyfriend or whatever the fuck, to find out if there’s something still here.” 

“Is there?” 

“You tell me.” 

“You didn’t want me.” 

“When?” Mickey spits out. “Name me one time I didn’t want your ass?” 

“The club. The center. You said- “ 

“Because you had a boyfriend, Gallagher. And I know how much it sucks to be cheated on by your ass. Wasn’t gonna let that poor guy go through that. Never meant I didn’t want you. Always fucking wanted you, man.” 

Ian shifts closer to him, his knee hitting Mickey’s. He rubs his thumb over the hole in Mickey’s jeans. It causes a buzz to jolt through Mickey’s body. Yeah, only Ian can make him feel like this. No tall fucker in a club can make his body respond like this from one simple touch. 

“Now what?” Ian whispers. 

“Now you get yourself back and we see how it goes. See if we even got anything in common anymore.” 

“Mick, we never had shit in common.” 

Mickey smirks. “Yea, maybe not but we didn’t do a lot of talking back then. But we are now. We’ll hang out, okay? Slow. Do this right, if we do anything. Can't believe I’m even sayin this, but I think we owe that to Trevor. You jumping right on and into me ain’t gonna make anything right.” 

“Well, I bottom now too, if you wanna switch things up.” Ian smiles, that wide evil smile. 

“If I wanted to fuck a guy in the ass, I would have stayed in prison.” 

Ian nods, a flush flowing over his cheeks and he looks down where his hand is still resting on Mickey’s knee. “Got it.” 

“Got the rest of the day off. Wanna go downstairs, watch some TV?” Mickey asks, running his fingertip over the top of Ian’s freckled hand. It might be the most intimate thing he’s ever done with Ian. 

“Yeah?” Ian asks, that twinkle of life back in his eye. 

“Yeah.” Mickey breathes out.  
  
**_I never learned to read your mind..._**  
  
Ian has never had good timing on his side. Relationships, family, jobs, decisions...timing was all shit. And now, for the first time in a long time he was single with the love of his fucking life out of prison and free, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. Because there is supposed to be a grace period between relationships, a “healing” period people call it and Mickey wants to respect Trevor and it's really admirable and completely un-Mickey like and that’s all well and good but all Ian wants, more than anything in the world is to put his dick inside Mickey’s ass. 

Yeah, Ian knows it's one tracked, and probably too soon after everything but Mickey’s just been around, all the time, doing that ‘hanging out and see how things go’ bullshit and Ian knows it's not bullshit but Mickey smells the same and when they hug goodbye Ian presses his nose into the soft spot on his neck where it meets his shoulder and he can feel Mickey’s warmth and it feels like coming home after years at war. Because he was at war with himself for all these years and it was foggy and bloody and violent and sad and confusing and now with Mickey here, in his arms at the front door of his childhood home, the war is over and he’s finally home. 

Ian wants to kiss him. He needs to kiss him. He needs to feel Mickey’s mouth on his and feel and hear the sigh escape from his lips from deep inside his chest and he needs Mickey to know in that kiss that this is it for him. He’s never letting him go again; never letting this feeling go again. Because Ian loves him, he fucking loves him and the thought of losing him again is making that familiar itch crawl under his skin and he paces his bedroom floor at 2am because he is sure if Mickey would just fucking kiss him, he’d know. Mickey would know that everything is going to be okay this time. That Ian wants the good times and bad and sickness and health shit. He wants it all. 

He wants Mickey. 

So, it's weird for Ian to not be having sex with Mickey. Because that was always the way they communicated and now they have to actually talk and speak about opinions and bicker about TV shows and movies and music and Ian found out how much Mickey hates cherries which is just weird because he swore Mickey ate cherry pie with him once at the diner but then soon realized that Mickey probably did eat it, because he knew how much Ian loves Cherry pie. And soon as weeks pass, Ian is filled with all this new knowledge about Mickey and himself and them together that his head spins every time Mickey is around now. Because as much as Ian loved this man before; the kind of love that lit fires and burned everything to the ground around them; Ian is finding how much he loves Mickey now, even more than he thought he did. Or could. 

Mickey is standing outside a thrift store and eyeing a dark green button up shirt which looks to made of cargo material, sucking on the end of a cigarette like it and the shirt has offended him somehow. 

“You like that?” Ian keeps looking between Mickey and the shirt inside the window, trying to just figure him out. But Mickey just shrugs and continues down the sidewalk like that whole thing never even happened. Because Mickey doesn’t look at clothes. Ian is sure Mickey has had the same clothes for as long as he has known him. But lately Mickey’s jeans are looking new and there are clean wife-beaters under his t-shirts and Mickey is wearing clothes Ian has never seen before. Mickey goes out and buys clothes for himself now. Like an adult. 

It's making Ian’s head spin. 

They head back to the L; they didn’t really have any set plans today. They’ve been walking around for hours now just talking about nothing really at all and their hands keep brushing and Ian’s skin is tingling and his mind is jumbled and he finally just pulls Mickey’s elbow, probably a bit too roughly and spins him so he has to look Ian in the eyes. 

“What the fuck are we doing?” 

Mickey raises an eye brow at him and looks behind him at the L station. “Going back to the house?” 

“No, I mean this-” Ian motions between them. 

Mickey just sighs and rubs his bottom lip. “We’re hanging out, Gallagher.” 

“So, you just wanna be friends then.” 

“Didn't say that.” 

“You haven't said anything! We’ve been hanging out for weeks now and we haven't even kissed! I’m going fucking crazy here. I feel crazy!” 

Mickey smirks. “You sound crazy.” 

Ian narrow his eyes. “Mickey.” 

“Okay, okay,” Mickey huffs out a laugh. “I’m trying not to fuck this up, okay? For a lot of reasons. We dove head first last time and look how that shit turned out.” 

“This is nothing like last time.” 

“Maybe not, but it doesn't mean I ain’t trying to do it right.” 

“You’re like courting me like some kind of 1800’s maiden.” 

Mickey’s eyes grow wide and he shakes his head, reaching for his pack of cigarettes. “You gotta stop watching those historical drama’s on Netflix man.” 

“Will you just give me a straight answer?” 

Mickey closes his eyes and lets an exhale of smoke out of his nostrils. “Okay. Fine. Ask me whatever the fuck it is that is driving you to yell and scream on the street like this.” 

“Why haven't you kissed me yet?” 

Mickey’s eyes flutter open and they immediately go to Ian’s lips. “You haven't kissed me either, Gallagher.” 

“Because I was trying to go at your speed, which is fucking a snail's pace.” Ian brushes past him toward the L. 

“Ay! You can't ask me to talk and then walk away!” Mickey yells behind him but Ian feels like storming off and that’s what he intends to do because if anything, he follows through. “Hey!” Its Mickey’s turn to grab his arm now and Ian jerks his arm away. 

“I’m doing everything on your terms! And I get it. I fucked up. I fucking hurt you but when are you going to stop punishing me for it!?” 

Mickey takes a step back, eyes glazing over with hurt. “You think this whole thing is about punishing you?” He scoffs. “Fuck you, Gallagher.” Its Mickey’s turn to storm off and he bumps Ian’s shoulder, hard, as he does. 

“Well, if that’s not what it is, then what is it?” 

Mickey turns suddenly and pushes his chest into Ian’s with brutal force. Ian stumbles back and sees the anger flashing behind Mickey’s blue eyes. There he is. There is the Mickey he remembers. 

“You ever think the reason I haven't kissed you yet is because if I do, I won't be able to stop? I’ll never be fucking able to stop, Ian. I’ll want to kiss you all the time. Every fucking damn day. Every night. Then I’ll start wanting to wake up with you and shit and then my mind will start going 120 miles an hour about the future and all the shit I had in my head years ago about what I wanted for us. Maybe, maybe you fucking genius, maybe I’m just trying to hold onto myself for a little while longer before I totally lose myself in your ginger ass again.” Mickey’s chest is heaving at his outburst and he scrubs his hands down his face. “FUCK!” 

Ian just stands there, looking at him, unable to speak. And then he realizes, Mickey really hasn’t changed all that much. The Mickey standing here, is the same Mickey he was then. Ian just never knew this part of him. The part Ian either forgot to see or who was too clouded to see. Because Mickey was a lot of things. He wasn’t just some angry, mean kid from the Southside. He was gentle too. And calming when he needed to be. He was kind to the people he really gives a shit about. Loyal. Honest. Good. He had interests that went beyond guns and stealing and carjacking. He had a brain; he was smart and had opinions about things Ian never knew he ever thought or cared about. A wave of things washes over Ian as he remembers these past few weeks with Mickey. All the things he learned that he thought in those moments were new things about Mickey, but now realize, were all a part of Mickey’s personality all along. 

Ian feels sick. 

He fucked up. Again. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. 

Mickey just groans and shakes his head as he looks at Ian. “I want you man. I told you that. Guess I was just trying to do this the normal way. Give you time to get out of one relationship fully before you got back into another one.” 

“This wouldn’t be just some relationship, Mick. This would be the one relationship. For the rest of my life.” 

Mickey’s eyes widen at Ian’s words. “You proposing to me or some shit?” 

“Not now. But one day, yeah.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“You don’t believe me?” 

“It's kind of a big thing to spring me on me considering we haven't even kissed yet.” 

Ian just smiles and pulls Mickey close gently by the wrist. They are so close and the L barrels by over their heads and the wind whips strands of their hair around their foreheads and Mickey keeps licking his bottom lip and Ian just fucking loves him so much. It’s the only thing he knows for sure. It may be the only thing he’s ever known. He loves him. It's consuming and scary and intense but it's so fucking easy. 

Mickey is finally the one who breaks the small distance between their mouths and it says so much about who Mickey is now as to who he was then. Because its broad daylight in the Southside of Chicago and people are walking by them on their way to the L and there’s a homeless guy about 5 feet from them who has been watching this entire encounter take place but Mickey’s lips are warm and soft just like Ian remembers them and Mickey sighs into the kiss and Ian knows he’s finally home.  
  
**_I think I've seen this film before  
And I didn't like the ending_**  
  
“Hey, Mickey. You got a minute?” 

Mickey looks up from the table where he’s been stuffing flyers into envelopes for nearly 2 hours now and nods as he stands and follows Trevor into his office. He notices a few boxes strew absently around the room and a wave of nausea floods him. 

“What’s up?” 

“So, there is a new center opening on the North Side. It’s a project of mine that I’ve been working on for almost a year and I finally got the funding we needed from the state and found a place to start it up and I’m gonna be running that center for a while.” 

Mickey swallows. “Okay, well cool, man. That’s great. I’m sure even the North Side queers need some guidance too. And I mean it's been almost a year and my parole is up soon so I can go find a real job-” 

“I want you to run this center.” 

Mickey can’t help the way his mouth falls open. “What?” 

“You can run this place better than I can. You get these kids in a way I never could. They trust you and you know when their lying and you can relate to their stories. You’ve worked your ass off this past year and I want you to stay on after your parole. I want you to take over. I’ll still be in charge you’ll just be the supervisor here. I’m thinking Danny might make a great assistant to you. He’s gonna be 18 next month and I think it will be the exact step he needs in really getting his life together.” 

Mickey can't find words. He can't make words come out of his mouth. He’s just staring at this dude, who he didn’t know for shit a year ago who just lost his boyfriend to Mickey. And maybe this is Trevor’s way of starting over. Getting away from the memories and the ghosts Mickey doesn’t know anything about. He can relate to that. He gets that. It's what he tried to do. But some ghosts haunt you for the rest of your life. And sometimes there really isn't anywhere you can run to. 

“So?” 

“Uh, yeah, man. Thanks. That’d be really cool. I’d like that.” 

“Good.” Trevor lets out his breath and drums his fingers against his desk. “There’s a shit ton of stuff we need to go over, but we can do that on Monday. Go home, I can finish up those flyers. I bet you have wicked paper cuts going on.” 

Mickey chuckles. “Yeah.” 

“Cool. We can start the process of Monday.” Trevor looks up at him. “I’m really glad I met you, Mickey. I know it sounds pretty gay, as you like to say, but you taught me a lot. About a lot of different things. And I’m just real glad I got to know you.” 

Mickey just nods. “Yeah, thanks. You too.” 

“Now get out of here. Monday. 8am. Don’t be late.” 

“Never am.” 

Mickey is almost out the door when he hears Trevor speak again. 

“He doing okay?” 

Mickey stills, hand on the door jamb. But he doesn't turn around. He can't look at him. Now, when they are talking about Ian. 

“Yeah, he’s really good.” 

It's quiet for a few seconds. “Tell him I said hi, okay?” 

“Course.” 

Mickey gives it about 20 seconds before he finally leaves Trevor's office, but he can't help the smile that follows him all the way home.  
  
**_So, step right out.._**  
  
Mickey drops his keys on the kitchen counter and grabs a beer from the fridge before he goes into the bedroom. He finds Ian sitting on the bed, legs crossed in front of him, eating Pringles and watching a rerun of ‘The Goldberg's’ on the small TV in their room. 

“What did I say about crumbs in the bed, Ian? You’re worse than a child.” Mickey peels off his shirt and throws it into the hamper in the closet. He can feel Ian’s eyes on him and he doesn’t even have a chance to turn around before he feels greasy fingers sliding down his bare spine. 

“Do I need to be punished?” Ian whispers low next to his ear. He’s pressed up against Mickey’s back now, pushing his whole body against Mickey’s. Mickey can't help but shudder. It never gets old. It's been almost 4 months and maybe it’s the honeymoon phase; maybe it's just the freshness of being back together again. Mickey doesn’t know nor care. Because his body will always respond to Ian’s like this. 

“That how its gonna play out tonight?” 

“As long as we play.” Ian’s lips are on his neck now and Mickey can smell the BBQ on his breath and it should be disgusting, but it's not. Now he knows how Ian felt all those years ago. 

“Do I get to shower first?” 

“Nope.” Ian turns him by his shoulders to face him and Ian leans down to lick across Mickey’s nipple. Mickey groans his hands going Ian’s hair. He kisses the top of his head and lets Ian map out a trail with his tongue along Mickey’s torso. 

“I like the way you smell.” 

“So, you’ve said before.” Mickey mumbles low and lifts Ian’s chin with one finger before pressing his mouth, open and wet, against Ian’s. Ian relaxes into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Mickey. The kisses are slow; gentle but filthy in the way only their kisses can be. They speak their own language like this. Mickey finds it odd even after all those years of being apart, they still remembered everything about how the other like to be touched. Mickey thought the first time they had sex again after so long that it would be clumsy and awkward until they found their groove again, but it was nothing like that. If Mickey had to say one thing in his entire life was perfect, it was that night. 

But their sex had always been that way, even from the very first time. They just fit together in a way that makes absolutely no sense. From the way their bodies grind together, to the way Ian’s mouth fit perfectly against Mickey’s, to how Mickey’s ass shouldn’t be able to take all of Ian’s cock, but can. They were an odd pair, they both knew it, but nothing ever made more sense in their lives. 

“I have news.” Mickey ghosts over Ian’s bottom lip. Ian pulls back, gently, eyes dark but searching. 

“Hmm?” 

“Trevor’s opening a new center on the North Side.” 

Ian pulls back all the way now, his eyes brimming with an emotion Mickey can't quite decipher. “He got it?” 

Mickey nods and Ian lets out a slow breath. “Wow. That’s great. He worked really hard for that.” 

And normally, if this was the old Mickey, he would have gotten jealous at the look of awe and a twinge of regret on Ian’s face. But these looks weren't due to second thoughts or the type of regrets that would normally leave Mickey reeling with his own doubt; these were looks because Ian knew what he had in Trevor. He doesn’t want him back; Ian just cares. 

“Thing is, with him leaving they need someone to run the center here.” 

Ian flicks his eyes all over Mickey’s face, a small smile brewing on his kiss bitten lips. “You?” He whispers. Mickey smiles and Ian practically jumps into his arms off the bed. Mickey lets out a loud ‘oof’ and catches Ian around his ass but eases him back down gently on the bed. The guy’s a giant. 

“Well, look at you. Shaping the minds of the shit talking, bitch slapping Southside youth.” 

Mickey laughs and pushes Ian down onto his back, straddling his thighs. 

“Who better than me, eh?” 

“No one, Mick. No one.” 

Mickey kisses him, hands sliding into Ian’s hair and gripping it tightly as he pushes his hips down firmly over Ian’s. Ian responds with soft huffs of air against Mickey’s lips and caresses his hands down Mickey’s sides until he reaches the button on Mickey’s jeans. Their clothes come off slowly; stopping in between articles of clothing so their mouths can lick and kiss each new patch revealed skin. What started off as kinky sex on the agenda quickly turned to something softer between them. Because in a second things can change, and both of them know that better than anyone. This was a good day. They savor these days now; celebrating the good and surviving through the bad together now. 

Ian gets Mickey on his knees once he’s naked and takes his time kissing down Mickey’s back, leaving not one inch of skin untouched. He licks the dip in Mickey’s tailbone, practically drooling in it as Ian spreads Mickey’s cheeks wide with his large hands. Ian’s good at a lot of things when it comes to sex. He can fuck and suck a dick like a pro, but what he excels at, what really makes Mickey a puddle of incoherent mess, is when Ian eats his ass. It's an art form he wishes he could put in a museum somewhere. And it's not something Ian just does because Mickey likes it. Ian does it because he loves to eat Mickey’s ass. He devours it; makes hungry noises while he does it and it makes Mickey cum like a God damn fountain every time. 

And Ian doesn’t disappoint tonight. Its slower this time; more precise licks against his hole. Flicks of his tongue, working Mickey open gently. But it's still wet and Ian’s mouth is so hot and he wraps his hole mouth around Mickey’s hole and sucks and hollows out his cheeks as he practically inhales Mickey’s opening. He pauses every now and then to catch his breath, but still does it while licking long wet lines down his balls and back up to his waiting hole again. 

Mickey isn't getting fucked tonight. And he’s fine with that. Ian intends on doing this for hours. Ian is showing him how much he wants him. How proud he is of him. And maybe it's an odd way to do it, but it's their way. The only time they really hear what the other is trying to say. There is no confusion and mistaken words. Ian knows exactly what Mickey means when he whines out Ian’s name against the sheets. And when Ian says Mickey’s name in this low, dark voice while watching Mickey’s hole clench open and closed around Ian’s long fingers, Mickey knows without a doubt what Ian is saying. 

This is it. This is what forever feels like. 

Ian spends a better part of two hours on Mickey’s ass. He fingers him and eats him and licks him, and sucks him and pushes Mickey to orgasm 3 times and Mickey can't understand how Ian hasn’t blown his own load yet. But after the third orgasm, with Mickey just a boneless heap against the mattress; skin soaking wet and Mickey unable to even open his eyes; Mickey can hear Ian behind him in his ear, his cock wedged between Mickey’s ass cheeks. 

“I’m gonna cum on your hole and then push it inside with my tongue.” 

And Mickey was sure he didn't have another release left inside him, but he’s been wrong before. 

Mickey reaches back with limp arms but strong hands and spreads himself for Ian. He can hear the slap of Ian’s hand against his cock; fast and hard as Ian grunts at the site of Mickey opening himself up for Ian. Mickey feels Ian’s cum before Ian can even make a sound from his orgasm; soft hits of warmth right into his swollen and open hole. Mickey moans and his cock jerks, for a 4th time that night; just a small amount releasing from his tip. There’s nothing left. Ian has taken everything. And it's the best feeling he’s ever had. 

Ian’s mouth is right there at Mickey’s ass, wasting no time pushing his cum deep inside Mickey with a finger and the point of his tongue. Mickey keeps his hands spreading himself so Ian can do whatever he wants and Ian just keeps moaning loud and sloppy against Mickey’s abused hole. When he’s done, Mickey releases his ass and his arms slide down onto the mattress unable to move. 

Ian is just murmuring “mmm” over and over again and Mickey can hear Ian licking his lips. It should be disgusting; who wants to taste their own cum? But to Ian it's the most intimate thing he can think of. Sharing the two parts of themselves like that. And Mickey gets it. He lets Ian do pretty much whatever he wants to in bed. It’s the only time Mickey feels completely free and allows himself to be totally vulnerable. Only with Ian. Only ever Ian. 

And Mickey gave him everything he had tonight. 

Ian gently rolls Mickey onto his back and positions the pillow under Mickey’s head. He’s careful and soothing as he trails his palm down Mickey’s body and Mickey can't open his eyes. Not yet. He’s not even sure he’s really awake and on this plain of existence. Mickey only opens his eyes when minutes later he feels a warm wet cloth on his stomach, wiping away the mess of cum all over himself. Mickey just smiles, big and wide and looks up at Ian with his red hair matted and sweaty against his forehead. Mickey reaches up and pushes it back and Ian leans into the touch. 

It's crazy to Mickey to think how something so hot and filthy can turn into something so soft and delicate in the same night. But that’s them. It's how they fit. They made a square peg fit into a round hole. And no one gets it; not even them sometimes. But at the end of the day, when they have this moment; this moment of pure stillness between them; Ian’s face resting in Mickey’s palm and their eyes just locked together, nothing matters besides this. 

Ian lies down, pulling the blanket up over them and settling his head against Mickey’s chest. Mickey feels light but weighted all at the same time and he presses his fingertips deep into Ian’s back. To ground himself and Ian. It’s a floaty subspace right now, for both of them, and these firm touches are needed. They both know that. 

“I fucking love you.” Mickey whispers, presses his lips to Ian’s forehead. Ian lets out a dry sob and presses his face deeper into Mickey’s chest. 

“Me too, Mick. Fuck, me too.”  
  
**_You didn't even see the signs_**  
  
Mickey always believed time was this straight line you could never stray from. You had one life, you lived it, and then lights out. But lately he’s been having these deep thoughts about existence and universes and time loops and it's making his brain work in overdrive. 

Ian is smiling up at the sky, the stars literally reflecting in green pools and Mickey knows he must be high as fuck if he’s actually seeing that. 

The grass is soft and comforting underneath their bodies and the 2 joints they rolled together are both long gone and now their fingers are intertwined as Ian just looks up at the sky in amazement and Mickey just stares at him because the fact of the matter is he doesn’t need to look at the sky to see the stars. And the thoughts about time and parallel universes and loops invade his mind again, because this can't be his real life. 

Mickey can’t be laying in a field with his soon to be husband, buzzed on weed and so happy that he feels like his chest might explode. He doesn’t understand if time is just a line you’re forced to follow in life, because it keeps ticking away, no matter what, how the line he followed led him here. There must have been a glitch in the matrix; a wormhole he passed through unknowingly if tomorrow he’s marrying this tall beautiful fucker next to him on the grass. His line in time wasn’t meant to lead him here. 

“Did you see that?” Ian whispers. 

Mickey just keeps looking at him and watches Ian’ eyes grow wide with wonder at the sky above him. “No. What’d you see?” 

“Shooting star.” Ian smiles wide and his head rolls across the grass to look at him. “Think it’s a good sign?” 

Mickey shifts his head closer and their noses touch and they breathe each other in. Ian’s hand reaches over; his thumb caressing Mickey’s pink cold cheek. They stay that way a while; just close and taking in each other’s warmth to field off the cool fall air. Mickey feels floaty and warm and safe and happy and he could blame the weed but he knows it's not just that. He knows it's just all Ian. And them. And what they’ve made together. A life. A home. And tomorrow, a future. Mickey’s done a lot of bad shit in his life. He’s made mistakes and decisions he never thought he could be forgiven or absolved for. But maybe he’s in a different universe, where in this one, he deserves to have this. That they get to have each other in the end. 

“Yeah, Gallagher. It’s a great sign.” Mickey sighs against Ian’s cold chapped lips, pressing his own open and hot against them.


End file.
